


For February's Rain Extras

by FebruarysRiver



Series: For February's Rain [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruarysRiver/pseuds/FebruarysRiver
Summary: Collection.
Relationships: Wan Yu & Wan Ji, Ye Xiyang & Ru Ge & Shi Ma
Series: For February's Rain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975996





	For February's Rain Extras

Winter had yet to loosen its grip on the world when Immortal Master Ning Shan brought his first and only disciple up the mountain.

The weather was cold enough to carpet the barren, small footpath up to even colder heights— from the time they left the village five-years-old Wan Yu had been grumbling, “ _Shifu_ why in this weather? It’s cold!”

And while the boy was already wrapped in layers and even had boots on his feet, it was inevitable that his small body felt the chill— he’d only opened his meridians and hadn’t started cultivating properly. Despite the relentless whines and noises, though, Wan Yu still walked with him for over the third of the way up— when he suddenly burst into tears and plopped onto the frosted ground, kicking around as he sobbed, indignant.

That was the day Immortal Master Ning Shan understood: while he could push and push and be ignorant of complaints, there was always a point when someone would break, and after that, maybe recovery would take longer than the time it had saved.

That morning, Immortal Ning Shan discovered that without his knowing, little Wan Yu had sprained his ankle way back at the foot of the mountain. It took two weeks for it to heal right.

But right now, they were here: halfway up the mountain, Wan Yu was in his arms, carried the rest of the way. They’d taken a quick stop as the sun rose and they entered the hour of the snake; in particular, Wan Yu had caught a glimpse of a creek that had frozen over and wouldn’t stop talking about it. “What fish usually swims there _Shifu_?”

“ _Shifu_ doesn’t know.”

“Wha? How come? That doesn’t make sense. What kind of fish _does_ swim in these small rivers?”

“... _Shifu_ doesn’t know.”

“Are they silver? Black? Oh, oh, red? Gold? Are they big? Small? I think small, it’s such a small river. But then again, the water must be so pure, maybe it _is_ big. Usually I mostly see fish that look blackish… Are the fish in the rice fields the same as the ones in the mountains?”

Echoes of that silly conversation seemed to be permanently etched on the surface of Immortal Master Ning Shan’s still and peaceful heart. It seemed to bring ripples onto unmoving waters, but seeing those bright, brown eyes stare back at him in expectation sweetened the storm that would inevitably follow.

“ _Shifu_ , can I?”

“In spring,” Wan Ji said.

“Aight. Spring sounds good enough for me. I’m not in that much of a hurry anyway.” A blink of an eye, and it had been thirteen years— the little, cheeky, talkative and clever child digging up worms and playing with bamboo tubes in the yard had grown into a young man with fire in his heart and water in his eyes, reflecting like deep pools and ancient lakes— he was tall now, a bit thin and lanky, but strong and smart and unwavering, undoubtedly the finest disciple Wan Ji could ever ask for. Every year, he would descend the mountain and roam the world. every year, too, he would return— be it at Qingming or three weeks late, body always covered in still-scabbing wounds— and regale his _shifu_ ridiculous tales of his adventures.

“Where are you planning to go next?” Wan Ji asked instead, watching as Wan Yu squatted over the cooking rice, managing the faltering flames. Beside him was a woven bamboo basket covered with a banana leaf— he’d gone down the mountain to do errands early in the morning, and returned with food. It must have been his foster mother’s doing. Though she only fostered him for the first five years of his life, such a love couldn’t be cut with either time or a knife; it must’ve tugged her heart when she saw him so thin. Wan Ji only watched as Wan Yu unwrapped the leaf-baked fish and steamed eggplants covered in minced garlic and chopped chilis. A container of stir-fried vegetables was there, too. Immortal Master Ning Shan had long since passed the need to eat. Wan Yu’s foster mother was yet another poor single mother in the village at the foot of the mountain, but still, what she’d made was enough for three.

“Not really sure yet,” Wan Yu said as he prepared the table and laid out the dishes. “This year there’s been continuing, chained outbreaks of consumption in the north and west; I’m not sure if I should go there because of the outbreak, or if I _shouldn’t_ go there because of the outbreak. This kind of thing tends to create chaos…”

“You’re not immune to disease,” Wan Ji reminded. “Who will take care of you if you fall ill?”

“That’s true… Oh well, I’ll think about it when I get to it. Anyway, I bought some cakes today, try it out? _Shifu_ , you just made a face! You did! It’s not _that_ bad, it’s just kinda overly sweet— _Shifu_ , I saw that!”

And the conversation was swept away by the moment's levity, like a brief spring shower washing away the vicissitudes of life.

Wan Yu did depart four days later. It was the last he saw of his _shifu_ alive.

There was still frost on the ground that day. It was still winter.

  
  


* * *

The fourth week of spring was a week for festivities.

There always was a dusting of snow still leftover from the harsh winter; perhaps dusting wasn't the best word, as it was as thick as a fur rug, though not quite as soft. The inner courtyard of the Frozen Dragon Sect was set at the highest flat surface on the mountain— it was biting cold, and when there wasn’t snow there always were the clouds. The courtyard here was almost a daily task for disciples, every day, in the morning and afternoon, keep the courtyard clean… Today was an outlier. Everyone was busy with the festival; many disciples had, as far as Ye Tianlan understood, gone to the kitchens to help with making _tangyuan_ and the ginger soup, while the rest went out on other tasks.

Ye Tianlan stared out of the study in a daze.

Snow had been falling in clumps and scraps since dawn, coming and going with the whimsy of a poet, but the heavenly dome remained an uncaring white. Everything was quiet, he’d long gotten used to the gusts of winds that buffeted the walls this high up in altitude, and yet he couldn’t focus on his readings today. 

"You're awfully distracted," Ru Ge commented, closing the book. Their voice shattered the silence that had settled so thoroughly that Ye Tianlan almost jumped in his seat, straightening up as he faced them. Sitting upright with eyes closed, expression akin to that of forbearance, Ru Ge's two hands were atop the table, one of them over a book on musings on governance Ye Tianlan ought to be reading this morning.

His own copy had been frozen in time on page four.

"My apologies."

His mood felt unsalvageable, though. Where he usually could stem its flow at the source, today it seemed to escape in rivulets, like a fine web spreading out and pushing back, to the point where Shi Ma’s arrival felt like a stone cast onto years-old spiderweb.

Shi Ma took one look at him and announced the prognosis: “He wants to join the festivities.”

Ru Ge fixed her an unimpressed look. “What festivities? It will start at the central hour of _shen_.”

“He’s missing the _community work_ , Ru Ge, not the _tangyuan_ ,” Shi Ma corrected. “Everyone else is outside and having fun, even if they’re working. Come, _Xiao_ Lan, let’s go to Yibi since lunch isn’t happening anyway. _Jie_ can get you in and out in minutes, there's no need to worry."

"It doesn't matter how quickly you move; if Supreme Leader simply opens his mouth and asks the townsfolk, they'd all be telling him the truth. It doesn't matter how able you are at smuggling him," Ru Ge retorted. The tartness in their tone lessened, though, when they saw Ye Tianlan's quiet acceptance. They sighed, "If you're going to do so, have the dignity to walk out of the front door. You're not some rat sneaking in and out of the sect. It's disgraceful."

Ye Tianlan's eyes widened. And just like that, he and Shi Ma were out of the sect and down to the town.

Yibi was a large, active town amid vast, unlivable frozen lands; it was the hub of the Slumbering Dragon Mountains and deeply linked to Frozen Dragon Sect, given that many of its inhabitants were common folks without talent for cultivation who decided to live their own lives outside of the sect. Taking its name from the tall, imposing walls that stared down at outsiders, its streets were, in contrast, warm; in this festive week, lanterns had been lit and tall, metal braziers dotted the streets, for those who needed a temporary reprieve from the biting cold. 

Unlike in winter where everyone would hurry to their destinations, today they dawdled, stopping by a stall or two as they browsed wares and snacks both, the shops already prepared for everyone within the town to descend into the streets in the afternoon. It was one such snack stall that caught Ye Tianlan’s eye— and his distraction too was noticed by Shi Ma.

“You want that?”

The old lady manning the small stall smiled at them when they approached. “Busy day, isn’t it? Are you two here for a snack?”

“Two,” Shi Ma said, holding her fingers up.

The snack in question was sweet rice cake; made of glutinous rice, it was chewy with a satisfying give when bitten, with a faint sweet undertone. It had been kept warm on a grill, leaving it a golden, crunchy surface— when the old lady moved to douse them both with some syrup, Shi Ma stopped her. “No, no syrup. For mine, just a brush of it.”

“Very traditional tastebuds,” the old lady praised, smiling at Ye Tianlan as she handed him his wrapped with paper for grip. It gave off a faint puff of hot air, brushing against his chin as he held it with a small, hidden wonder. “A very serious looking young man. You will do well.” 

Ye Xiyang sighed into his spiced drink.

“Is the drink good?” a voice asked from across the table.

“Good,” Ye Xiyang said. It was hot milk, sweetened with sugar and spiced with ginger and cloves and other spices— expensive, and imported from the far south no less. Ru Ge flipped to a new page of their book and continued reading. Putting the ceramic cup down with a faint _clack_ , Ye Xiyang returned to the petition books that had piled over the past week— the spring festival had forced its way to the front of the line when it came up, and now that its preparations were done and Ye Xiyang no longer had to go through the finances of buying ginger and spices to make _tangyuan_ and ginger soup for over a thousand people, he could finally return to the documents on the demonic faction and _jianghu_ in general.

“That’s good. They’ll be done with the _tangyuan_ soon, but Shi Ma dropped by earlier with rice cakes if you’re already hungry.”

“Oh?” Speak of something, and it’d appear, Ye Xiyang supposed. “What’d she say?”

“Hmm?”

Ye Xiyang took another sip of his drink. “She wouldn’t come back hundreds of _li_ just to get me rice cakes for no reason.”

“...Who knows with that woman,” Ru Ge said, shaking their head. “If you want to eat it, eat it while it’s warm. When it hardens it’s inedible.”

And that was how Ye Xiyang knew that there was a reason Shi Ma dropped by; Ru Ge always skirted around matters of the past still too raw. They thought it was too raw, at least. It had been only a year since he’d ascended into the position of Supreme Leader. Shi Ma must’ve thought that Ye Xiyang would be saddened by this year’s spring festival.

“It’s still fine,” Ye Xiyang said as he picked up a cut piece and ate it. After swallowing, he washed it down with some spiced milk; the surface indeed had hardened a bit from how cold it had become, but the subtle sweetness was still there. “If anything, it tastes better than last year.”

“You didn’t have any last year.” After a moment, though, realization dawned in Ru Ge’s eyes.

It was destined to be a cold spring this year; it always was, but snow had fallen once more at midday, and didn’t cease until early evening. Ye Xiyang, a faint smile on his lips, stared out into the night.


End file.
